


Throwing Caution

by Mandaloria593



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Force-Sensitive Paz Vizla, Humor, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandaloria593/pseuds/Mandaloria593
Summary: Paz hunts Luke down to yell at him for making off with Din’s child without even leaving a comlink code. They find common ground and mutual appreciation.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Paz Vizsla
Comments: 17
Kudos: 35





	Throwing Caution

**Author's Note:**

> There's an almost empty Paz/Luke tag just crying out for fic. I'm making an offering. The first half is basically a character study and could be read alone (plus the very ending section after the asterisks), if you're not convinced they should bang. (But you should let them bang.) If you're a visual person, for this fic, I'm picturing Paz in that popular fancasting of Winston Duke, like [here](https://datmando.tumblr.com/post/624878260159905793/i-did-a-thing).

Luke had picked up a tail.

He wasn’t sure precisely when his Jedi senses had alerted him that he was being tracked. But the prickling at the back of his neck had slowly crept into his awareness, like a persistent itch—one he couldn’t ignore any longer. The nebulous presence was too far away to pin down, but it didn’t _feel_ malevolent. Stretching out with the Force, Luke perceived only curiosity and determination. 

Luke drummed his fingers on his X-Wing’s cockpit console, considering his next move. 

Artoo whistled a series of inquisitive beeps about their destination.

“I know, Artoo,” Luke told the astromech droid over the short-range comm. “But while I’ve been tracking this lead on Leia and Han’s attacker, someone else has been tracking _me.”_

Artoo whistled mournfully. 

“Don’t worry about it. There’s no way you could have known. The ship’s clean.”

A short, flat sound.

Luke chuckled lightly. “Exactly. _Jedi stuff.”_ He stopped tapping his fingers and tugged on the glove on his right hand. He often fiddled with his cybernetic hand when he was thinking. It was a habit. “Maybe we should give this guy a run for his credits. What do you think, Artoo?”

An affirmative chirp. 

“I have to admit, I’m impressed,” Luke mused. “We haven’t been following a predictable course. The few star systems we’ve passed through have been out of the way from the usual hubbub of the Core. Without a tracker planted on us, this guy must be good. Really good.”

Artoo emitted a series of forceful blips.

Luke grinned and stopped fussing with his hand. “That’s right, Artoo. No one’s a match for the New Republic’s only Jedi Knight. Let’s veer off route and set up a little rendezvous with our mysterious pursuer.”

The console lit up with a number of suggestions from Artoo, one of them highlighted. 

Luke whistled. “Are we that close? I like your style, Artoo. Let’s see if this guy likes to take a dip.” 

Artoo whirred a question.

“Of course I’ll fish you out if anything happens,” Luke promised gamely. “I’ve learned a lot since then. My skills have grown considerably. Size matters not, and all that.”

After hearing a charitable chirp of agreement, Luke laid in the course to Dagobah. 

***********

Paz lightly handled the controls of the freighter, easing the banged-up ship along its unhurried trajectory. He wasn’t the greatest pilot by any means, but he was an excellent tracker. 

He’d emerged from hyperspace at preset coordinates behind the planet’s second moon. He’d then taken the ship into a careful orbit, letting the moon’s own sedate rotation guide the ship, avoiding igniting the propulsion thrusters. He didn’t want to give away his hidden position. He just wanted to be close enough to see where the _jetii_ was heading next. 

Tracking a _jetii_ required stealth. 

Paz was proud he’d gotten this far without detection. 

As he watched the X-Wing’s thrusters kick on, he wondered if Din’s _ad_ was aboard the craft. Did the _jetii_ take the _ad_ everywhere with him like Din had, or did he leave him with someone? It didn’t matter either way. Paz wasn’t here to take the _ad_ back, as much as he’d like to for Din’s sake. Din’s brief happiness when he and Paz had reunited all too soon retreated to melancholy over missing his _ad._ Paz was concerned for him—and for his _ad._

Paz waited until the X-Wing was nearly out of range before thumbing the controls to put the old freighter into pursuit. 

The X-Wing was traveling sub-light, to Paz’s surprise. Perhaps the _jetii_ had tracked his own quarry into this very system. Paz checked the readouts. _Dagobah system._ Paz had never heard of it. The primary planet was unpopulated but had plenty of lifesigns. Again, it didn’t matter. He made sure to hang back, giving the _jetii_ space to maneuver. He didn’t want to interfere with the _jetii’s_ mission. 

Soon enough, the X-Wing was descending towards the surface of the system’s primary planet. 

Paz followed.

************

Luke deliberately landed his X-Wing in the middle of a swamp. 

Rather than extend the ladder, Luke used the Force to leap down from the cockpit. His boots squished into the damp ground. 

“Stay there,” he advised Artoo, pulling up the hood of his robe to obscure his face. He then calmed his senses and breathed in the familiar dense, humid air. Life thrived here. Frogs and birds chirped, insects buzzed, and dozens of beady eyes tracked him as he trunched through the muck. 

His plan was simple: 

Lure out his pursuer. 

Immobilize him, non-fatally. 

Interrogate him.

And hopefully, his pursuer would enjoy the swampy hospitality of Dagobah as much as Luke had the first time. That is, to say, not at all.

***************

_Yuck._

Paz grumbled to himself as he took his first step off the ramp and onto the planet’s ground. It _squelched_ under his oversized boots. 

He looked around. Swamp. Dense lines of short trees. Mud everywhere. Thick air that steamed up the transparisteel of his visor. He flipped up his helmet’s antenna to enhance his view as he surveyed the area. The local animal life was singing a loud chorus in his audio receiver, but, curiously, there were no signs of sentient life. What was the _jetii_ seeking here? Paz’s sensors didn’t pick up even a small settlement to land near, so he’d been forced to set down in the middle of an open swamp. It seemed too vulnerable. It put him at a disadvantage. 

As he waded through the mud and muck towards more stable ground under the trees, he heard a sickening mechanical grunt behind him. Paz turned back to his ship. It _lurched_ downwards, sinking inch by terrifying inch into the wet marsh.

 _No, no, no, no!_ Paz was frantic. He slogged as fast as he could back to the freighter. But every step closer carried the ship further down into the mud. Paz froze. He began to retreat towards the treeline again. The ship remained upright. Only the runners and the tip of the nose had dipped out of sight. It was salvageable, so long as Paz could tie it and pull it up and out of danger. 

But the _jetii_ was near. As long as the ship didn’t sink any further, it should be okay in his absence. Just to be sure, Paz retrieved a long spool of rope from one of his pockets. He formed a lasso and tossed the rope around the top wing fin. He then tied the other end of the rope to the tallest tree in the vicinity. _There,_ he thought satisfyingly. _That should hold it._

Time to hunt the _jetii._

********************

Luke was certain his pursuer wouldn’t reach him anytime soon. Artoo had registered his ship land quite a distance away from Luke’s own landing site. Moving on foot across the swampy marshland was a grueling process. Luke knew from personal experience. Knowing how long it would take left him impatient for the upcoming confrontation. 

He had smartly landed near Yoda’s old hut, so he decided he may as well go inside and wait. He was reasonably sure he’d squirreled away some loose tea leaves the last time he’d passed through. He’d come to explore his Master’s former home for training texts and relics. After communing with Luke for several years, Yoda had moved on with the Force. The only traces of his presence now lingered in the few possessions he left behind and in Luke's memory. 

Luke ducked under the small, Yoda-sized door frame, nearly hitting his head on the low rafter. He smiled to himself, thinking of how he should bring Grogu here some time. Everything was Grogu-sized in the small hut, which made Luke feel like a giant—a rare treat for him, given that everyone but Leia seemed to tower over him. 

Not that size mattered, of course. 

Anyone who judged Luke by his stature rather than his power in the Force would be sorely disappointed. 

A Jedi should not crave adventure—an adage he’d been criticized with right here in this very room—but knowing oneself was also important. And Luke could admit he was looking forward to discovering the identity of his tracker and perhaps giving him a taste of his Jedi abilities if there was to be a fight between them. 

But if Luke was going to grant himself the rank of Master anytime soon, he needed to tamp down on his excitement about the possibility of seeing action. Caring for Grogu was...wonderful in many ways but dull in others. Grogu was too young to converse on any engrossing topics and far too young to train with any physical vigor. But Luke felt Grogu was _owed_ a solstice of peace and quiet after everything he’d been through. So Luke had purposefully been staying under the radar and devoting his time to establishing a stable, healthy environment for Grogu. The downside was that it was, all considered, tediously boring. 

Ennui had snuck upon him like a shadow in the dark. He hadn’t realized how desperate for a break in the monotony he’d become until he’d gotten the call from Leia— _Leia,_ who was _pregnant,_ when she and Han had been attacked. No way was Luke going to sit that one out. He’d leapt into the fray, leaving Grogu in their safe hands and brushing the dust off his Alliance flight helmet. 

And now, huddling inside Yoda’s old hut, Luke found himself both hunter and prey as he waited for his trap to be sprung. 

Given how long he’d calculated it would take for his pursuer to appear, he should use the time to meditate. He ought to meditate on why he felt more in his element when things went wrong than when things went smoothly. But between the tea and the cozy familiarity of the hut, he found himself drifting off to sleep in a pile of blankets on the floor. 

*********

Paz wasn’t going to slog his way to the _jetii_ on foot. Not when he had a jetpack at his disposal. 

He’d left his bulkier armaments back on the ship, including his articulated heavy-repeating blaster cannon. Relieving himself of the cannon and its accoutrements allowed him to move ten times faster. Even with his beskar armor covering nearly every inch of him, his large size didn’t mean he wasn’t agile. Paz was happy to correct anyone who suspected otherwise. He trained hard, and his massive frame was just as honed as any of the weapons hidden on his person.

But he wasn’t chasing this _jetii_ to start a fight. 

He just wanted to talk. He needed information. He needed assurance. He needed coordinates and a kriffin’ comlink code. 

Paz was surprised when he sailed across another cropping of trees and spotted a structure that was not naturally occurring. It was a small building, and there was a golden glow coming from inside the windows. Someone was home. It had to be the _jetii._

Paz’s good mood soured when he got closer to the rustic structure. It was _tiny._ If he even fit inside at all, it was going to be hard to maneuver. 

He decided to do some reconnaissance first, just to see what the situation was inside. He flew a few yards outside the perimeter of the hut, landing with a soft thud. The muddy ground cushioned and muffled his descent. He cut the power to his jetpack’s thrusters and quietly crept forward. He approached one of the well-lit windows and crouched beside it. He peered in through the murky, grey-fogged glass. 

It was the _jetii!_

Or rather, it was a lump of black fabric curled up on a pile of blankets on the floor. But the lump was moving up and down in the even cadence of a sleeper’s breaths. _What do jetii dream about?_ Paz wondered. Din’s _ad_ was nowhere to be seen. 

Paz had not anticipated catching the _jetii_ unawares. He thought the _jetii_ would have sensed him long before he could get close. He had asked around. About _jetii._ About their magic. Despite Din’s opinion to the contrary, Paz didn’t _like_ to approach situations unprepared. He was simply good at thinking on his feet when the unexpected happened, as it inevitably did. 

The _jetii_ murmured something in his sleep and rolled to his side. His shifting caused his hood to fall back, revealing his face. Paz stared at him. The _jetii_ was fair-haired with a comely face that did not look like the face of a man who had destroyed a platoon of dark troopers with barely a sweat. He looked young and peaceful. 

Paz moved to the hut’s entrance. He grimaced at its diminutive size. Once he entered the enclosed space, he would lose his only advantage. 

It would be better to lure the _jetii_ out into the open. Paz spared a moment of regret for waking the slumbering sorcerer, then retreated to the treeline, picking up some stones as he went. When he attained a sufficient distance, he started tossing the stones at the window. The stones pinged on the glass. 

Paz saw a shape moving in the hut. He had gotten the _jetii’s_ attention. 

He readied his grappling launcher. He needed to make sure the _jetii_ would stay still and listen to him. 

The door flung open, and the _jetii_ stepped out, rising to his full height. Paz didn’t hesitate. He jumped out the trees, igniting his jetpack to secure a height advantage. Simultaneously, he launched his grappling line. 

The _jetii_ looked up at him with wide blue eyes as the grappling line looped around his torso, once, twice, three times. 

Paz was tackling him before he could wiggle his arms free or, worse, ignite his laser-powered _jetii’kad._

They tumbled to the muddy ground. The _jetii_ gave an endearing yelp as Paz’s larger frame trapped him, getting mud all over the _jetii’s_ robes. Yet Paz found his own movements sluggish as he tried to secure his electronic handcuffs around the _jetii’s_ wrists. It was as if something in his mind was demanding he hold back. 

“Stop that,” the _jetii_ tutted, as if Paz was merely a nuisance and had not swept his feet out from under him. 

“Just want to talk,” Paz huffed, getting one of _jetii’s_ wrists secured but unable to pull the other hand close enough to latch them together, given the tautness of the grappling line, which only continued to tighten as the _jetii_ writhed to free himself. 

“Then you should have come to the door and _knocked,”_ the _jetii_ retorted, before Paz was suddenly hit in the head by a flying tea kettle. He batted it away easily. 

But then the trees around them started rustling, as if a storm was coming or a herd of blurrgs was charging towards them. Paz barely had a chance to look up at the new threat when one of the trees _uprooted_ itself and came crashing down on them. 

_Whoosh!_

Paz’s breath was pushed out of him, even under his protective armor. He was lost in a jungle of leaves and twigs. He floundered and tried to find a way out in order to right his grip on the _jetii._ But the _jetii_ had used the temporary distraction to slide out from under him. Paz’s expansive wingspan allowed him to grab the _jetii_ by the ankle before he could escape completely. 

In a risky gambit, Paz ignited his flamethrower. 

Fire caught in the _jetii’s_ robe as well as the branches and leaves of the fallen tree. 

Paz emerged from the flames unscathed but warm in his armor. The _jetii_ was hopping about, trying to shrug off his robe, which was very much on fire. The fabric must have been highly combustible.

Not wanting the _jetii_ to be permanently injured, Paz grabbed the flailing limbs of the _jetii,_ pinning him a bear hug. He quickly ignited his jetpack and ascended diagonally, seeking the most direct path to the nearby pond. Once he was hovering about the scummy surface, he unsheathed his vibroblade, cut the grappling line, and dropped the _jetii_ into the water, flaming robe and all. 

“Ah!” the _jetii_ called out as he splashed down.

When the _jetii_ hit the water, the fire around him was extinguished. 

Paz watched as the _jetii_ resurfaced with a gulp of air, shrugging off the cut tether and the burnt robe and letting both float away. He paddled there in the water and wiped his wet bangs away from his face as he looked up at Paz. His handsome face was marred by a frown, but the order he issued to Paz was delivered calmly, if curtly, “Go put out that fire, Mandalorian.”

That was probably a wise idea. 

Paz filled the tea kettle that had been thrown at him earlier with the dingy water and tossed it onto the flames. The fourth time was the charm, dousing out the last flickers of fire that weren’t already muted by the ever-present mud. 

As he finished his task, he saw the _jetii_ approaching. It was a sorry sight. The _jetii_ was soaking wet. Flight suit sodden and dripping. Boots squelching to expel water at every step. 

Paz moved towards him unconsciously. He felt apologetic for the turn things had taken. 

He was stopped in his tracks, however, when the _jetii’kad_ was ignited with a hiss and a buzz. The green-lit sword bathed the _jetii’s_ pale face in a green sheen. The dampness on his cheeks, nose, jaw, and even his eyelashes was glistening under the reflection of the blade’s glow. Paz’s advance was blocked in a deadly warning. 

“That’s close enough,” the _jetii_ said. 

Paz raised both palms in a gesture of peace. “You are drenched. Please, allow me to aid you.” 

The _jetii_ barked a laugh. “It’s hot. I’ll dry. And _you,”_ he paused, pointing his glowing sword at Paz, “have been following me. Why?”

The _jetii_ didn’t give Paz the opportunity to respond. 

He continued, “I’ve recently had...dealings...with other Mandalorians. I know you’re not all working for imperial remnants or even bounty hunters. But is that what this is? You hoping to cash in? Because if so, big guy, you are out of luck.”

A deep rumble escaped Paz’s chest. “I thought the _jetii_ believed in the Force, not luck.”

The _jetii’s_ sword lowered slightly, and an impish smile crossed his face that Paz recognized could appear menacing...if it was on someone else. Someone far less sweet-faced.

The _jetii_ replied, “If you are so well acquainted with the Jedi, then you should know well enough to leave me alone.”

Despite the _jetii’kad_ and the murderous look, Paz was unfazed by this mir’sheb upstart. “I would have,” Paz said, “except that I was forced to hunt you by your own actions. Or perhaps by your inactions,” he clarified. 

“I’m listening,” the _jetii_ prompted.

Paz shook his helmet. “I tried to secure you earlier in order that we might talk without...all this,” he waved vaguely at the _jetii’kad._ “I do not exchange words such as these at swordpoint.” 

“Then I repeat, you should have _knocked,”_ the _jetii_ bit out. He was still blinking water from his lashes, scraggly hair dripping down his brows. He looked like a half-drowned loth-kitty. 

“It’s about your _ad,”_ Paz tried. “The child. The green one.”

The jetii’s eyes narrowed, then he sighed, powering down the _jetii’kad._ “Fine.” He hooked the _jetii’kad_ to his belt and walked back towards the hut. He jerked his chin towards his destination, indicating Paz should follow him. 

Paz trotted after him.

“Boots off,” Luke insisted, and Paz complied. 

*********************

The big blue Mando had perseverance, Luke would give him that. At least he had put out the remaining fire when asked so that it wouldn’t spread and endanger the local habitat. 

Luke remained wary as he invited the Mando inside the hut, watching in amusement as the enormous bulk of a man hunkered down to enter. 

But the Force wasn’t really backing Luke up on his concerns. Instead, the Force trilled happily around the Mando, singing his praises and wrapping him in laurels of light. It was irksome. The Mando had attacked him, hadn’t he? He’d lassoed him, lit him on fire, and dumped him in a lake. That wasn’t exactly the friendliest caller Luke had ever received. (It wasn’t the worst either.)

Luke sat down in his soggy clothes near the cooking fire and began pulling off his wet boots. Socks, too. He wiggled his toes in front of the fire, appreciating the dry heat as opposed to the oppressive mugginess outside. 

Unlike Luke, who was filthy, the blue Mando was still relatively spotless, having wiped down his armor with a rag and having dispatched with his muddy boots. He awkwardly tried to sit across from Luke, but he ended up having to lean on his side like a fantastical mermaid just to fit. 

Luke liked this dynamic between them much better.

“So,” Luke began conversationally, “what information do you have for me about my _green child_ that was worth chasing me across the multiple star systems for?”

“Oh!” the blue Mando exclaimed. “I don’t have information for you. I’m here to impart some advice. Advice...or a threat, depending on how you take it.”

Luke’s eyebrows rose, but he poured them each a cup of tea and passed one into a gloved hand that dwarfed Luke’s own. 

“Thank you,” the Mando said politely, bowing his helmet and holding the small cup as if it was a very delicate piece of china and not a hand-carved wooden trinket. He made no move to drink it. “The water for this didn’t come from the same kettle that I filled with pond scum, did it?”

“No. There’s more than one kettle around here.”

The Mando nodded. He still didn’t make any attempt to lift his helmet to drink the tea. He sat there, perhaps collecting his thoughts. Another moment passed, then he said, “You have done my tribemate wrong.”

“I have?” 

“You have,” the Mando asserted. “You took his _ad,_ I mean his child, without saying where you were going or how to contact you. You barely gave him a chance to even say goodbye.”

Luke was taken aback. “I thought...I mean...he _wanted_ me to take Grogu and train him. I know he did. He gave his permission, and they said goodbye.” 

“And yet you didn’t give them privacy to properly do so. You saw his face, which wasn’t yours to see.”

Luke’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ as he considered Paz’s complaints. “I didn’t realize I overstepped.”

“You had no right. You should not have _seen.”_ The Mando’s hand was now gripping the tea cup tightly, and his voice was rising. “And you should have given him a way to contact you so that the child would not have to forever lose the only father he’d had for nearly a year. Is that what _jetii_ do?” The Mando pointed accusingly at Luke. “If so, you should rethink your Order’s creed.”

Luke pursed his lips to refrain from offering any defensive retort. He calmed his breathing and searched out with tendrils of the Force, wanting to understand this distressed man’s perspective. 

Like stepping through a rippling mirror, Luke could see it in hazy, untethered shadows. He could see the impression he inadvertently left on the silver Mandalorian on the imperial cruiser. He could see the fear, the distrust, the confusion, and the aching resignation. 

Luke hadn’t meant to sow any of those things. He’d been so focused on eliminating the threat to the child that he had not _looked_ to see the situation with the silver Mando for what it was. Yes, he’d perceived Grogu’s anxiousness, but he’d attributed it to the turmoil the child had experienced—conveyed through the temple beacon on Tython and then directly through the Force as Luke got closer to the cruiser—rather than recognizing the bond between father and child for what it was. For what it _still_ was, despite the months that had passed. Grogu missed the silver Mandalorian. And Luke had missed the signs of loss. 

He could blame it on his own lack of parental stability, Aunt and Uncle notwithstanding. But Luke would have to meditate on the reasons for his faux pas later. For now, he needed to focus on the present, as his Jedi lessons taught. And in the present, a very large, very upset Mandalorian was lecturing him, and rightly so. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke said eventually. He tried to push his sincerity into his voice with the Force, not as a compulsion to elicit forgiveness but to enhance the truth of it. He tried to find the Mando’s eyes behind the tinted blue visor, but caught himself and stopped trying upon realizing that he was not supposed to see this one’s face either. “You’re right. I messed up. What can I do to fix it?”

The blue helmet reared back in an expression of shock. It tilted to the side, and Luke heard a heavy exhale. “I...I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“You tracked me down just to yell at me?” Luke inquired lightly, letting out a small chitter, as much as a shaking out of his nerves as a laugh. 

“To encourage you to do the right thing,” the Mando insisted, though his puffed up posture deflated. “But also...yes.”

Luke gave him a genuine smile. “Your loyalty to your tribemate commends you, but I do welcome your advice on how to make amends. I can start with the obvious.” Luke fumbled around his wet flight suit, trying to cram his hands in his pockets to retrieve his comlink. But the fabric was soaked through and sticking to him. He chortled and glanced across the fire at the Mando with a rueful grin. “Well, I’ll start with the obvious once my clothes are dry. I have a comlink on me. Somewhere.” 

“That is a fine start,” the Mando agreed, putting down the untouched tea cup. “But what does being dry have to do with it?”

Luke wrinkled his nose and gestured at himself. “Uh, everything’s sticky. Can’t search my pockets.”

The Mando began scooting closer to Luke, closing the distance between them until one of his large hands rested on Luke’s knee. “As an experienced _beroya,_ I am very adept at strip searches.”

Luke sucked in a rush of air. The tension in the hut had shifted dramatically, and Luke immediately picked upon the change in the air...spurred by a change in the man next to him. It was as if all the energy the blue Mando had put into his plan to waylay Luke and convince him of his offenses needed a new outlet now that Luke had relented so easily, and it was all being redirected into a tightly coiled spike of _interest._

Was the Mando _serious?_ Did he really think Luke was going to lie there and let a mammoth-sized armored Mandalorian peel his wet clothes off him to rifle through his pockets for his comlink code? Although...the heat that suddenly shot to Luke’s belly, and the teasing glee of the Force that was whipping around the blue Mando certainly made the idea _appealing._ But no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do _that._

Luke watched as the hand on his knee slid up his thigh. 

“Allow me to aid you?” the Mando asked again, and this time the already deep voice from the helmet’s vocoder was even huskier than before. 

Mortifyingly, the sound went straight to Luke’s cock. His body jumped under the Mando’s light but bold touch. 

“I don’t even know your name,” Luke said, as if that was the issue. As if that was the only thing stopping him from yielding to this tête-à-tête. 

“My name is Paz.”

 _Paz._ A good, strong name for a good, strong Mandalorian. “I’m Luke.”

“I know, _jetii.”_

“Alright, Paz, I guess you can--woah!”

Luke was tipped backwards and got a lapful of sleek armor that was refreshingly cool against him. He braced one hand on the floor behind him, and with the other grabbed Paz’s bicep in between the armor plating. He dazedly noticed his hand barely wrapped around even half of Paz’s muscular arm. 

Gloved fingers went for the buttons at the top of Luke’s flight suit. The fastenings were deftly undone, and the suit was peeled back. Luke shrugged out of the sleeves, until he was in just his tank top. He felt better already with the damp, clingy fabric of the flight suit removed from his upper body. 

When Paz’s hands went to work on his belt, Luke gasped out, “I thought you were going to strip _search_ me, not just strip me.”

“Same thing,” Paz informed him with a roughness to his voice that was in contrast to the gentle but insistent pressure of his hands working to unbutton the lower half of Luke’s flight suit.

“It’s not,” Luke countered, but his protest lacked any real heat.

“I will strip you and then search the garment,” Paz explained, gloved fingers skirting along Luke’s stomach and dipping briefly into his belly button as if by accident on the meandering path back to the lower hem of the flight suit. “It is much easier to look through pockets that are not glued to skin.”

“Fairrr,” Luke conceded, but his comment was bitten off with a groan, because Paz was lifting up Luke’s hips and encouraging him to shimmy down the rest of the flight suit until it was stuck around his thighs. The wet fabric clung to wet skin.

Paz’s manhandling should not have been making Luke as excited as it was. But Luke _was_ excited and getting hard in his thin undershorts, thoughts clouded with _want_ as he placed himself at the mercy of this still fully-armored stranger. Because Paz _was_ a stranger, Force-approved or not. When Luke had longed for getting some action to break up his carefully-structured routine, he hadn’t pictured _this._

Paz propped Luke’s hips and legs up until they were lying across Paz’s lap, giving him better access to peel off the pant-legs of the flight suit. Luke shivered as Paz worked the clingy fabric down his legs. In its wake, Paz’s gloves roved across Luke’s bared skin. Luke keened, then covered his face with his hands, embarrassed by the sound. Paz seemed to take it as an invitation. Once the flight suit was pushed down to his feet, Paz wrapped his huge hands around one of Luke’s ankles and then slowly, slowly caressed upwards, sliding up Luke’s calf until his thumb tenderly brushed the back of Luke’s knee. 

_“Paz.”_ Luke wasn’t sure if he meant the name as a warning or a prayer.

“So sensitive,” Paz murmured. 

Paz let go and did the same thing to Luke’s other leg. He took Luke’s ankle in a firm hold, then gradually slid up again, hands engulfing Luke’s entire calf. Luke had never given much thought to the underside of his knee, but when Paz attended to the spot again, Luke groaned like Paz had found a previously unknown erogenous zone. Paz repeated his ministrations on each leg again, feeling up Luke’s legs in slow caresses, his touch slow and methodical. It was driving Luke wild. He thrashed, but the bunched up flight suit was twisted around his feet. 

Paz finally pried off the rest of the flight suit, then held the clothes up to inspect them, presumably searching them for Luke’s comlink. 

Luke was rather put out at the thought that Paz’s interest in _him_ was coming second to his interest in the wet pockets of the flight suit. Luke cleared his throat. 

Paz’s helmet turned towards Luke’s face. “Something amiss, _jetii?_ Am I not doing exactly what I said I would? I always keep my word.”

Luke glared at him. “You can’t just...do that and then... _do that.”_ Luke tried not to think about how wrecked his voice was just from a few simple touches. 

At least Paz’s voice had gone gravelly, too. “I’m sorry. I speak Basic, Mando’a,” he returned his hands to Luke’s leg, “Huttese, Bothan,” the gloves didn’t stop at Luke’s knee this time, and his hands _surrounded_ Luke’s thigh, “but I can’t make hide nor tail of whatever you just said. I’m going to need clarification.”

And then the grinning bastard—because Luke was certain he was grinning behind that helmet—placed his gloved palm right on the bulge in Luke’s undershorts.

“Clari- _fuck!”_

One hand massaged Luke’s growing hardness, and the other came to rest on Luke’s flushed chest over his tank top. The touch trailed up Luke’s neck and landed on his lips, where small sounds of gratification were spilling forth without Luke’s say-so. Luke nipped at the gloved fingers tracing the seam of his lips, and the hand jumped back as if Luke had bitten hard enough to hurt. But then the fingers returned, bare and dark and curious, and Luke grabbed them to tangle with his own, coaxing their joined hands down, down to the growing interest between his legs. 

Luke was pleased to hear Paz breathing harshly through his vocoder as their hands made contact with the fabric covering Luke’s twitching cock. Paz paused. “Luke, should I...can I…?”

“Please,” Luke urged, pushing his hips up into Paz’s huge hand as Paz palmed his swelling erection. 

And then Paz was slipping beneath Luke’s undershorts to grasp him fully. 

Luke moaned at the touch. He was already on edge from the foreplay and the matched desire he could sense when he reached out to Paz’s mind with the Force. Paz jacked him slowly at first, and then more urgently, more demandingly. Luke couldn’t see his eyes, but he didn’t need to. He could see _behind_ his eyes, see Paz from the inside. He was _good_ and strong and his soul… what did they call it? His _kar’ta,_ his heart, thrummed beautifully in his chest under the _iron heart_ emblazoning his beskar.

Luke let his consciousness nestle into the back of Paz’s mind, not influencing anything, just being _present_ and sharing his enjoyment of the moment.

Paz’s hand suddenly stilled, making Luke jerk his hips up into his fist, seeking more friction. “What…?” 

Delight suffused Luke upon the realization that Paz could _feel_ him through the Force. “You feel me in there? In your head?”

“How could I _not?”_ Paz asked, like it was unremarkable for him to be able to feel a sixth sense that most people weren’t born with and went their whole lives without ever tapping into. 

Distracted by the physical pleasure of Paz’s hand, which had returned to stroking him, Luke remembered himself enough to check in. “It’s...okay? What I’m doing?” He retracted his presence back from Paz’s mind in illustration. He didn’t _need_ that connection to get off, but it would be that much better with it, especially to compensate for Paz keeping the helmet on. The armor was cool and relieving against Luke’s overheated skin, but not being able to see or touch his face, or kiss his lips, made Luke yearn to reach out with his other senses. 

Paz’s voice was gruff. “Don’t you dare stop.” 

Luke dove back in, letting his consciousness meld with Paz’s in a delicious tangle of thoughts and emotions, all of them passion-focused and unhinged, running amok in self-indulgent circles. He fed his own pleasure back to Paz in a looped circuit, heightening every sensation, increasing the potency of every touch.

*************

Paz was coming apart.

The _jetii’s_ mental caresses, while confounding and tremendous at the same time, were not enough for Paz. He didn’t fully understand what the _jetii_ was doing to him, but he wanted more. 

He was getting hard inside his armor, and he needed relief. 

He stopped touching Luke in order to work at freeing himself from his own pants. Luke whimpered, which only hurried Paz’s frenzied hands along in their purpose. 

The _jetii_ used the break to tug his undershorts down and off. He was still wearing the tank top, and Paz was enamored with the way Luke looked bare from the waist down with just a strip of fabric stretched across his chest. Pert pink nipples peaked invitingly through the flimsy shirt, which had gone transparent from his unexpected swim. 

Paz took a moment to curse the complicated fastenings of his custom armor, but he eventually managed to undo enough for his erection to spring from its confines. Luke’s grasping, needy hands were on him in a flash. His hands were smaller and paler than Paz’s, and Paz loved watching the contrast. In truth, Luke’s hands weren’t small for his frame by any means, but Paz was just big, even bigger now as he filled with desire.

He rolled to his side and pulled Luke along with him until they were front to front on opposite hips. Luke was clutching at him and thrusting mindlessly, letting loose a stream of soft, desperate sounds. 

Paz took them both in hand and found a rhythm that would hopefully bring them both to the brink. 

And then Luke did _something_ in his head, and Paz’s steady pace faltered, caught up in the lusty spell the _jetii_ was weaving in his mind. He embraced it despite its strangeness, because it felt good, and because he trusted Luke, sort of. He hadn’t expected the swift apology and offer of remedy. Paz’s gut had twisted with want at witnessing such a powerful warrior heed the rightness of the Way, even if the _jetii_ didn’t know it by that name and hadn’t been raised in it like Paz.

Paz had wanted him, and Paz was _having him._

He needed to focus on that. To focus on his body chasing release. 

Paz almost couldn’t believe this was really happening. He hadn’t thought the _jetii_ would respond to his flirtation, which he’d tossed out between them like a lifeline when he’d felt himself drown in sudden ardor. But when Luke _had_ responded, willingly putting himself in Paz’s hands, Paz had lost himself. Luke was coming alive under him, and he was sliding along his mind the same as their bodies slid against each other. 

The double assault on Paz’s senses undid him. 

He was coming in long spurts on Luke’s tank top, and Luke suddenly surged up against him, body pressed in what had to be uncomfortable closeness to Paz’s armor. But Luke seemed anything but discomforted. He was making little mewls of hitched breaths, hips jutting, dick throbbing under the back and forth of Paz’s still slickly moving fist. Paz let go of his own oversensitized flesh and focused completely on Luke. A final squeeze was all it took. Luke was coming, splattering Paz’s armor. Paz eased him through it until Luke weakly pushed his hand away, muttering repetitive inanities, like “that’s good, so good, so good, Paz.”

Paz watched Luke’s satiated face with open appreciation. 

Eventually, he stretched his hands above his head and wiggled his toes. His body tingled in the aftershocks of well-earned pleasure. He yawned silently, watching the rise and fall of Luke’s chest as his breathing evened out. The cadence was much faster than when the _jetii_ had been caught sleeping on the job. “Luke,” he said, testing the name on his tongue anew. 

“Hm?”

Paz pawed at his tank top. “Can I borrow this?”

“Uh, sure.” Luke twisted until he was able to lift the shirt off his head. He crumbled it into a ball and tossed it to Paz.

Paz used it to clean first himself and then Luke. 

Luke’s eyes had narrowed, although his body purred under Paz’s touch. “Really?”

“It was already ruined,” Paz reminded him. “Besides, would you rather I used your flight suit?”

Luke snorted. 

Paz tucked himself back into his pants and armor. 

Eventually, he did find the comlink in one of Luke’s flight suit pockets. The tea was cold when Paz lifted his helmet and snuck a quick sip.

**************

After securing the code, Paz lobbed the comlink back towards Luke in a wide arc, and Luke used the Force to stop its momentum before plucking it out the air. He slipped on his undershorts and watched Paz drink the tea that had surely gone cold. Luke was drawn to the glimpse of glistening brown skin and white teeth.

Paz said, “I’ll make sure to give this code to Din,” 

“That’s his name?” Luke asked, lax as he aired out his flight suit by the fire.

“Yes. I’m offering it to you. Don’t abuse it.”

“Thank you, Paz.” He understood that a Mandalorian’s name, like their face, was not lightly given. Luke stopped fidgeting with his cybernetic hand in favor of scraping his fingernails against the fabric under his hands, scratching at the slowly drying stitching. “Why didn’t Din track me down himself? Why send you?”

Paz looked down, and Luke felt sheepishness from him. “He didn’t send me. He has no idea I assigned myself this quest. He’d have tried to stop me from hunting you down. But I was right to find you, wasn’t it?” 

“You were,” Luke assured him. “I’m glad you found me.” 

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Luke didn’t mind that he was so underdressed compared to his guest. Luke’s armor was not visible like Paz’s, but it was visceral in the Force, like a heavy cloak around him, sheltering him and protecting him no matter his state of dress.

Luke wasn’t sure whether he should broach the topic lingering in his thoughts. He went for a blunt delivery, figuring Paz would value straightforwardness. “I don’t know how else to say this, but, did you know you’re Force-sensitive?”

“Huh?”

Luke peered at him. “The way you felt me in your head, the way you reached _back,_ completing the connection? Not everyone can do that. I didn’t expect it.”

Paz cocked his helmet. “Sorry if I overstepped.”

Luke shifted towards him, placing a hand on one of his armored shoulders. “No Paz, I’m trying to tell you that you have what the Jedi have. The ability to feel and interact with the Force that flows through everything? You have that ability, too.”

“You think I have _jetii_ powers?” Paz asked, his tone conveying Luke may as well have suggested that he had three heads. Paz laughed, patting Luke’s hand with good-natured cheer. “I am no _jetii_ sorcerer. I am Mandalorian.”

Luke’s serious expression eased into a soft smile. “You think you can’t be both? Surely there have been Force-wielding Mandalorians in your people’s long history.”

“Perhaps,” Paz allowed. “There is this weapon called the Darksaber. It looks and acts like a _jetii’kad,_ a...what do you call it?”

“Lightsaber.”

“Yes, a lightsaber. Except this one sucks all the energy out of the room like a black hole. I have felt its power. It is a lightsaber, yet Mandalorian-made. Perhaps its original crafter was both _jetii_ and Mandalorian.”

“Sounds like it,” Luke commented. “It usually takes a Jedi to work with kyber. I’d like to see that saber some time.”

“Then take Din’s comlink call.”

“What?”

“He has it,” Paz said, shrugging, as if this revelation was unimportant. “He won the Darksaber in combat against Moff Gideon, making him the true wielder of the weapon and the rightful king of Mandalore.”

“Grogu’s dad is the heir apparent to the throne of Mandalore?” Luke questioned.

“Yes.”

“This is a lot of new information,” Luke said, thinking it over.

“It’s information you could have gotten sooner if you hadn’t been so quick to steal away with the child,” Paz said pointedly.

“I already apologized for that,” Luke noted peevishly. 

But Paz’s hand came up to cup Luke’s jaw. “I think you can apologize better. I’ve seen how sweet your mouth can be.”

Luke blushed at the innuendo and at the feel of Paz’s thumb brushing his lip. “Well, if you want to see what else my mouth can do, may I suggest without offending you that you consider the benefits of kissing?”

“Kissing down here?” Paz pointed to his crotch.

Luke smiled, undeterred. “I was thinking somewhere else. Somewhere a lot less...hard.”

Paz chuckled. “Oh, you aren’t ready for that, sweet _jetii.”_

Luke resisted the urge to pout. “What would I have to do to get to see your face like Grogu gets to see Din’s?”

Paz continued tracing his richly dark fingers over Luke’s face. “Let’s just say it’s quite the commitment. And you already have a commitment to your Order and to your new charge. I think that’s quite enough on your plate for the moment.”

“Alright,” Luke said, ducking his head away from Paz’s touch and letting his dejection color his voice. 

“But,” Paz said, “I will tell you about it. In stages. Perhaps one day you could earn the privilege.”

“I’d like that,” Luke told him.

“Of course you would. I have a very handsome face.”

“Says who?” Luke teased. “Nobody’s seen it.”

“Says me.” Confidence oozed out of Paz in waves. 

“Okay. Until then, I’ll just have to use my Jedi powers to get inside that helmet.”

“That is fair game,” Paz agreed, sounding perfectly content with it. “Very clever. I like it.” He tilted his helmet and said lowly, “What am I thinking about right now?”

Luke let his eyes fall closed and reached out with his senses. His eyes shot open, and he laughed. “You’re just horny.”

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? I wish to have you again.”

“Oh…” Luke breathed. “Yeah, okay, I want that too. You can’t take off your helmet, but can we take the rest off this time?”

“Yes,” Paz said warmly, encouraging Luke to place both his hands on his breastplate. “It is a long process for me to remove my armor and get as naked as you are. Do you think you can get through it before coming again?”

Luke squirmed in Paz’s lap, wrapping his legs around Paz’s waist. “A Jedi can be _very_ patient,” he promised.

“But can _you_ be very patient when I do _this?”_

Paz groped Luke’s ass, fingers digging into the skin beneath the undershorts Luke had put back on. Luke covered his yelp with his own fist. “Paz, you are _trying_ me.”

Paz’s fingers remained less than idle as Luke flipped buckles and tackled the seemingly-endless task of stripping Paz down. “You are a knight of the _jetii._ You need to test your limits now and then, don’t you?” Paz’s fingers dipped into the cleft of Luke’s ass and fluttered across his perineum with meaningful intent. “I intend to see you _stretch_ them fully as I take you to pieces beneath me.”

 _“Force_ yes. Fuck me, Paz.”

“Get me undressed, and I will.”

Luke whimpered, grinding down against Paz’s fingers as he applied himself more assiduously to the task of revealing smooth, heavily muscled skin that shined like midnight in the glow of the fire. 

A flurry of activity followed. Hands everywhere. Loud moans and choked cries. Paz’s finally bared body took Luke from behind as they lay on their sides, Luke’s upper thigh held aloft by Paz’s oil-slicked fingers, leg balanced against the low ceiling as they found a position that accommodated Paz’s size in the cramped space. 

Every thrust of Paz’s hips hit Luke’s sweet spot, spurring him to new heights of wantonness. His sweaty hand squeaked where it slid against the side of Paz’s helmet. Everywhere else, Paz’s naked body overwhelmed Luke with his immensity and determination to drive Luke past the limits of his control. 

Luke was besieged with sensations both physical and mental. He plunged eargery into Paz’s swirling, radiant thoughts, even as Paz stoked pleasure in his body. Luke would have worried he was taking advantage of an intimacy he hadn’t earned if not for Paz’s astonishing reception. For being untrained in the Force and generally wary of outsiders, Paz was unexpectedly welcoming of Luke in his mind. 

Luke took and gave in equal measure. 

When his climax overtook him, he dragged Paz with him. He rode the high as long as he could, shaking, wanting to savor the moment and draw out the ecstasy, pumping his hips as Paz pushed and pulled him through his release. 

But nothing this good could last forever. 

It wasn’t meant to.

Fleeting pleasures of the flesh, even if mimicked in the mind, were temporary things, living out their existence in a span of mere minutes like the moth-flies of Montrallia, birthed and dead again as fast as an exhale. Every second lived needed to be lived to the fullest. Appreciated to the fullest. And Luke basked in the moment of closeness and shared _living,_ connected to the Force and to the person inside him, alive. _Alive. Alive._

*********

Luke had wanted to escort Paz back to his freighter, and Paz was glad for the company. Now, though, he was dismayed to find the ship had sunk nearly halfway into the swamp.

Paz made a mad dash for the rope he’d tied to the tree. He began pulling, using his jetpack’s thrusters to offset the weight, but the ship stubbornly refused to budge even under his not inconsiderable strength. 

“Let me help you,” Luke offered. 

“I suppose you can _try_ to help,” Paz said dubiously. 

“Do or do not. There is no try.” 

The words didn’t make sense to Paz, but then a lot about Luke didn’t make sense to Paz. He was duly amazed when Luke closed his eyes, moved his hand, and with an invisible power _lifted_ Paz’s ship out of the swamp. 

_Jetii_ sorcery.

As the ship hovered safely in the air, Paz used his jetpack to fly to the ramp. He landed on it lithely and turned around to face Luke. “Thank you. _Ret'urcye mhi,_ Luke.”

“Farewell, Paz.” Luke waved at him. 

Paz _felt_ Luke repeat the Mando’a phrase inside his head with a lilt of comprehension, which was weird but nice. They were both warriors, and the traditional parting words allowed for the possibility that something bad might happen. 

But Paz did not doubt they would see one another again. 

Maybe he would even tell Din about what he had done here, at least the part about the _ad_ and the _jetii’s_ honorable intentions to redress his wrongs. 

As for the rest, Paz would keep that to himself, precious and wondrous under his kar’ta beskar. 

**Author's Note:**

> Mando’a translations:  
> Jetii = Jedi  
> Jetii’kad = lightsaber  
> Kar’ta = heart  
> Kar’ta beskar = iron heart (symbol on chestplate)  
> Mir-sheb = smartass  
> Ret'urcye mhi = goodbye, literally maybe we’ll meet again


End file.
